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Philosophers have become interested in connectionism because it promises to provide an alternative to the classical theory of the mind: the widely held view that the mind is something akin to a digital computer processing a symbolic language. Exactly how and to what extent the connectionist paradigm constitutes a challenge to classicism has been a matter of hot debate in recent years.
Here is a simple illustration of a neural net:
Each input unit has an activation value that represents some feature external to the net. An input unit sends its activation value to each of the hidden units to which it is connected. Each of these hidden units calculates its own activation value depending on the activation values it receives from the input units. This signal is then passed on to output units or to another layer of hidden units. Those hidden units compute their activation values in the same way, and send them along to their neighbors. Eventually the signal at the input units propagates all the way through the net to determine the activation values at all the output units.
The pattern of activation set up by a net is determined by the weights, or strength of connections between the units. Weights may be both positive or negative. A negative weight represents the inhibition of the receiving unit by the activity of a sending unit. The activation value for each receiving unit is calculated according a simple activation function. Activation functions vary in detail, but they all conform to the same basic plan. The function sums together the contributions of all sending units, where the contribution of a unit is defined as the weight of the connection between the sending and receiving units times the sending unit's activation value. This sum is usually modified further, for example, by adjusting the activation sum to a value between 0 and 1 and/or by setting the activation to zero unless a threshold level for the sum is reached. Connectionists presume that cognitive functioning can be explained by collections of units that operate in this way. Since it is assumed that all the units calculate pretty much the same simple activation function, human intellectual accomplishments must depend primarily on the settings of the weights between the units.
Training nets to model aspects of human intelligence is a fine art. Success with backpropagation and other connectionist learning methods may depend on quite subtle adjustment of the algorithm and the training set. Training typically involves hundreds of thousands of rounds of weight adjustment. Given the limitations of computers presently available to connectionist researchers, training a net to perform an interesting task may take days or even weeks. Some of the difficulty may be resolved when parallel circuits specifically designed to run neural network models are widely available. But even here, some limitations to connectionist theories of learning will remain to be faced. Humans (and many less intelligent animals) display an ability to learn from single events; for example an animal that eats a food that later causes gastric distress will never try that food again. Connectionist learning techniques such as backpropagation are far from explaining this kind of "one shot" learning.
Another influential early connectionist model was a net trained by Rumelhart and McClelland (1986) to predict the past tense of English verbs. The task is interesting because although most of the verbs in English (the regular verbs) form the past tense by adding the suffix `ed', many of the most frequently verbs are irregular (is / was, come / came, go / went). The net was first trained on a set containing a large number of irregular verbs, and later on a set of 460 verbs containing mostly regulars. The net learned the past tenses of the 460 verbs in about 200 rounds of training, and it generalized fairly well to verbs not in the training set. It even showed a good appreciation of "regularities" to be found among the irregular verbs (send / sent, build / built; blow / blew, fly / flew). During learning, as the system was exposed to the training set containing more regular verbs, it had a tendency to overregularize, i.e. to combine both irregular and regular forms: (break / broked, instead of break / broke). This was corrected with more training. It is interesting to note that children are known to exhibit the same tendency to overregularize during language learning. However, there is hot debate over whether Rumelhart and McClelland's is a good model of how humans actually learn and process verb endings. For example, (Pinker & Prince 1988) point out that the model does a poor job of generalizing to some novel regular verbs. They believe that this is a sign of a basic failing in connectionist models. Nets may be good at making associations and matching patterns, but they have fundamental limitations in mastering general rules such as the formation of the regular past tense. These complaints raise an important issue for connectionist modelers, namely whether nets can generalize properly to master cognitive tasks involving rules. Despite Pinker and Prince's objections, many connectionists believe that generalization of the right kind is still possible (Niklasson and van Gelder, 1994).
Elman's (1991) work on nets that can appreciate grammatical structure has important implications for the debate about whether neural networks can learn to master rules. Elman trained a neural network to predict the next word in a large corpus of English sentences. The sentences were formed from a simple vocabulary of 23 words using a subset of English grammar. The grammar, though simple, posed a hard test for linguistic awareness. It allowed unlimited formation of relative clauses while demanding agreement between the head noun and the verb. So for example, in the sentence
Any man that chases dogs that chase cats .. runs.the singular `man' must agree with the verb `runs' despite the intervening plural nouns ('dogs', `cats') which might cause the selection of `run'. One of the important features of Elman's model is the use of recurrent connections. The values at the hidden units are saved in a set of so called context units, to be sent back to the input level for the next round of processing. This looping back from hidden to input layers provides the net with a rudimentary form of memory of the sequence of words in the input sentence. Elman's nets displayed an appreciation of the grammatical structure of sentences that were not in the training set. The net's command of syntax was measured in the following way. Predicting the next word in an English sentence is, of course, and impossible task. However, these nets succeeded, at least by the following measure. At a given point in an input sentence, the output units for words that are grammatical continuations of the sentence at that point should be active and output units for all other words should be inactive. After intensive training, Elman was able to produce nets that displayed perfect performance on this measure including sentences not in the training set. Although this performance is impressive, there is still a long way to go in training nets that can process language. Furthermore, doubts have been raised about the significance of Elman's results. For example, Marcus (to appear) argues that Elman's nets are not able to generalize this performance to sentences formed from a novel vocabulary. This, he claims, is a sign that connectionist models merely associate instances, and are unable to truly master abstract rules.
Over the centuries, philosophers have struggled to understand how our concepts are defined. It is now widely acknowledged that trying to characterize ordinary notions with necessary and sufficient conditions is doomed to failure. Exceptions to almost any proposed definition are always waiting in the wings. For example, one might propose that a tiger is a large black and orange feline. But then what about albino tigers? Philosophers and cognitive psychologists have argued that categories are delimited in more flexible ways, for example via a notion of family resemblance or similarity to a prototype. Connectionist models seem especially well suited to accommodating graded notions of category membership of this kind. Nets can learn to appreciate subtle statistical patterns that would be very hard to express as hard and fast rules. Connectionism promises to explain flexibility and insight found in human intelligence using methods that cannot be easily expressed in the form of exception free principles (Horgan and Tienson, 1989, 1990), thus avoiding the brittleness that arises from standard forms of symbolic representation.
Despite these intriguing features, there are some weaknesses in connectionist models that bear mentioning. First, most neural network research abstracts away from many interesting and possibly important features of the brain. For example, connectionists usually do not attempt to explicitly model the variety of different kinds of brain neurons, nor the effects of neurotransmitters and hormones. Furthermore, it is far from clear that the brain contains the kind of reverse connections that would be needed if the brain were to learn by a process like backpropagation, and the immense number of repetitions needed for such training methods seems far from realistic. Attention to these matters will probably be necessary if convincing connectionist models of human cognitive processing are to be constructed. A more serious objection must also be met. It is widely felt, especially among classicists, that neural networks are not particularly good at the kind of rule based processing that is thought to undergird language, reasoning, and higher forms of thought. We will discuss the matter further when we turn to the systematicity debate.
It is interesting to note that distributed, rather than local representations on the hidden units are the natural products of connectionist training methods. The activation patterns that appear on the hidden units while NETtalk processes text serve as an example. Analysis reveals that the net learned to represent such categories as consonants and vowels, not by creating one unit active for consonants and another for vowels, but rather in developing two different characteristic patterns of activity across all the hidden units.
Given the expectations formed from our experience with local representation on the printed page, distributed representation seems both novel and difficult to understand. But the technique exhibits important advantages. For example, distributed representations, (unlike symbols stored in separate fixed memory locations) remain relatively well preserved when parts of the model are destroyed or overloaded. More importantly, since representations are coded in patterns rather than firings of individual units, relationships between representations are coded in the similarities and differences between these patterns. So the internal properties of the representation carry information on what it is about (Clark 1993, p. 19). In contrast, local representation is conventional. No intrinsic properties of the representation (a unit's firing) determine its relationships to the other symbols. This self-reporting feature of distributed representations promises to resolve a philosophical conundrum about meaning. In a symbolic representational scheme, all representations are composed out of symbolic atoms (like words in a language). Meanings of complex symbol strings may be defined by the way they are built up out of their constituents, but what fixes the meanings of the atoms?
Connectionist representational schemes provide an end run around the puzzle by simply dispensing with atoms. Every distributed representation is a pattern of activity across all the units, so there is no principled way to distinguish between simple and complex representations. To be sure, representations are composed out of the activities of the individual units. But none of these "atoms" codes for any symbol. The representations are sub-symbolic in the sense that analysis into their components leaves the symbolic level behind.
The sub-symbolic nature of distributed representation provides a novel way to conceive of information processing in the brain. If we model the activity of each neuron with a number, then the activity of the whole brain can be given by a giant vector (or list) of numbers, one for each neuron. Both the brain's input from sensory systems and its output to individual muscle neurons can also be treated as vectors of the same kind. So the brain amounts to a vector processor, and the problem of psychology is transformed into questions about which operations on vectors account for the different aspects of human cognition.
Sub-symbolic representation has interesting implications for the classical hypothesis that the brain must contain symbolic representations that are similar to sentences of a language. This idea, often referred to as the language of thought (or LOT) thesis may be challenged by the nature of connectionist representations. It is not easy to say exactly what the LOT thesis amounts to, but van Gelder (1990) offers an influential and widely accepted benchmark for determining when the brain should be said to contain sentence-like representations. It is that when a representation is tokened one thereby tokens the constituents of that representation. For example, if I write `John loves Mary' I have thereby written the sentence's constituents: `John' `loves' and `Mary'. Distributed representations for complex ideas like `John loves Mary' can be constructed that do not contain any explicit representation of their parts (Smolensky 1991). The information about the constituents can be extracted from the representations, but neural network models do not need to explicitly extract this information themselves in order to process it correctly (Chalmers, 1990). This suggests that neural network models serve as counterexamples to the idea that the language of thought is a prerequisite for human cognition. However, the matter is still a topic of lively debate (Fodor, 1997).
On the face of it, these views seem very different. However many connectionists do not view their work as a challenge to classicism and some overtly support the classical picture. So-called implementational connectionists seek an accommodation between the two paradigms. They hold that the brain's net implements a symbolic processor. True, the mind is a neural net; but it is also a symbolic processor at a higher and more abstract level of description. So the role for connectionist research according to the implementationalist is to discover how the machinery needed for symbolic processing can be forged from neural network materials, so that classical processing can be reduced to the neural network account.
However, many connectionists resist the implementational point of view. Such radical connectionists claim that symbolic processing was a bad guess about how the mind works. They complain that classical theory does a poor job of explaining graceful degradation of function, holistic representation of data, spontaneous generalization, appreciation of context, and many other features of human intelligence which are captured in their models. The failure of classical programming to match the flexibility and efficiency of human cognition is by their lights a symptom of the need for a new paradigm in cognitive science. So radical connectionists would eliminate symbolic processing from cognitive science forever.
Fodor and Pylyshyn's often cited paper (1988) launches a debate of this kind. They identify a feature of human intelligence called systematicity which they feel connectionists cannot explain. The systematicity of language refers to the fact that the ability to produce/understand some sentences is intrinsically connected to the ability to produce/understand others of related structure. For example, no one with a command of English who understands `John loves Mary' can fail to understand `Mary loves John'. From the classical point of view, the connection between these two abilities can easily be explained by assuming that masters of English represent the constituents (`John', `loves' and `Mary') of , `John loves Mary' and computes its meaning from the meanings of these constituents. If this is so, then understanding a novel sentence like `Mary loves John' can be accounted for as another instance of the same symbolic process. In a similar way, symbolic processing would account for the systematicity of reasoning, learning and thought. It would explain why there are no people who are capable of concluding P from P&(Q&R), but incapable of concluding P from P&Q, why there are no people capable of learning to prefer red cube to green square who cannot learn to prefer a green cube to the red square, and why there isn't anyone who can think that John loves Mary who can't also think that Mary loves John.
Fodor and McLaughlin (1990) argue in detail that connectionists do not account for systematicity. Although connectionist models can be trained to be systematic, they can also be trained, for example, to recognize `John loves Mary' without being able to recognize `Mary loves John'. Since connectionism does not guarantee systematicity, it does not explain why systematicity is found so pervasively in human cognition. Systematicity may exist in connectionist architectures, but where it exists, it is no more than a lucky accident. The classical solution is much better, because in classical models, pervasive systematicity comes for free.
The charge that connectionist nets cannot explain systematicity is initially quite plausible. However, careful analysis of the content of the claim is needed (Hadley, 1994). Furthermore, the view has been criticized lately by Aizawa (to appear), Garson (to appear), and Wallis, (to appear). One point common to these rebuttals is that symbolic processing models have exactly the same feature which was supposed to deny connectionists an ability to explain systematicity, for there are also classical models that can be programmed to accept `John loves Mary' and reject `Mary loves John'.
Its defenders will argue that folk psychology is too good to be false (Fodor, 1988, Ch1). What more can we ask for the truth of a theory than that it provides an indispensable framework for successful negotiations with others? On the other hand, eliminativists will respond that the useful and widespread use of a conceptual scheme does not argue for its truth (Churchland 1989, Ch. 1). Ancient astronomers found the notion of celestial spheres useful (even essential) to the conduct of their discipline, but now we know that there are no celestial spheres. From the eliminativists point of view, an allegiance to folk psychology, like allegiance to folk (Aristotelian) physics, stands in the way of scientific progress. A viable psychology may require as radical a revolution in its conceptual foundations as is found in quantum mechanics.
Eliminativists are interested in connectionism because it promises to provide a conceptual foundation that would replace folk psychology. Simple cognitive tasks can be performed by neural networks that do not appear to contain any structures that could correspond to beliefs, desires and plans (Ramsey et. al., 1991). It is still an open question as to whether the complexities of human cognition can ever be captured by such connectionist models. Furthermore, the whole issue of exactly what evidence about the brain would support the view that beliefs and desires are actively involved in the brain's processing is a cloudy one. The question is complicated further by disagreements about the nature of folk psychology. Many philosophers treat the beliefs and desires postulated by folk psychology as brain states with symbolic contents. For example, the belief that there is a beer in the refrigerator is thought to be a brain state that contains symbols corresponding to beer and a refrigerator. From this point of view, the fate of folk psychology is strongly tied to the symbolic processing hypothesis. On the other hand, some philosophers do not think folk psychology is essentially symbolic, and some would even challenge the idea that folk psychology is to be treated as a scientific theory in the first place. Under this conception, it is much more difficult to forge links between results in connectionist research and the rejection of folk psychology.
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First published: May 18, 1997
Content last modified: July 29, 1997